


The End Of All Things

by Ancalimë (Cymbidia)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Healing, Henneth Annûn, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Sunsets, The Fields Of Cormallen, The Lost Oliphaunt, The Window Of Sunset, Traipsing About Searching For A Lost Warbeast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15892740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cymbidia/pseuds/Ancalim%C3%AB
Summary: Frodo and Sam go out into Ithilien in search of the lost Oliphaunt, first alone, then with the help of Faramir."The hobbits wandered here and there visiting again the places that they had passed before; and Sam hoped always in some shadow of the woods or secret glade to catch, maybe, a glimpse of the great Oliphaunt. And when he learned that at the siege of Gondor there had been a great number of these beasts but that they were all destroyed, he thought it a sad loss."





	The End Of All Things

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Window on the West](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/414708) by Lyra (Qitian). 



> Tolkien RSB fic, as a collab with the inimitable [Lyra](https://nimium-amatrix-ingenii-sui.tumblr.com), who not only made a very inspirational piece of art, but went above and beyond and created a separate header from scratch too!  
> 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141141476@N02/44463661401/in/dateposted-public/)

_Then the others also departed, and Frodo and Sam went to their beds and slept. And in the morning they rose again in hope and peace; and they spent many days in Ithilien. For the Field of Cormallen, where the host was now encamped, was near to Henneth Annûn, and the stream that flowed from its falls could be heard in the night as it rushed down through its rocky gate, and passed through the flowery meads into the tides of Anduin by the Isle of Cair Andros. The hobbits wandered here and there visiting again the places that they had passed before; and Sam hoped always in some shadow of the woods or secret glade to catch, maybe, a glimpse of the great Oliphaunt. And when he learned that at the siege of Gondor there had been a great number of these beasts but that they were all destroyed, he thought it a sad loss._

_‘Well, one can’t be everywhere at once, I suppose,’ he said. ‘But I missed a lot, seemingly.’_

* * *

It was late when Frodo and Sam finally went to their beds. Sam’s mind whirled with all he’d heard, and his joy at the miraculous happy ending that he had found himself in buoyed him up til he felt like he could float up through the branches of the beech trees and all the way into the clouds. Yet when he slipped into bed at last, he found himself falling asleep within seconds, never mind his excitement and his joy. He was tired, and not yet fully recovered from his ordeals.

The beds were soft, and Sam slept easily through the night. In the morning when he woke, he thought that he could recall a memory of burning fires, but that resolved into warm rays of sunlight dancing gently across Sam’s face. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of growing things. In fair Ithilien no shadow could linger in the light of day. Sam yawned and stretched, then smiled. Amidst the rustling of the beech trees and the tinkling flow of a nearby stream, it was difficult to remember that the journey into the shadowed lands had not been a dream after all.

Sam rose and washed. He was careful to not wake the still slumbering Frodo, who was curled into a ball and had his bandaged hands clutched to his chest. Frodo was pale and wan in the dappled sunlight, and there was a light sheen of sweat upon his face, yet he breathed deeply and slowly. His sleeping face was peaceful and untroubled.

Sam dressed in the crisp new clothes that had been brought to him, preeminently satisfied with how fine he looked in them. The day was languid. Ithilien’s springtime was unusually warm and golden, so Sam decided to forgo his coat as he ventured out in search of breakfast. As he exited the grove of beech trees that had been giving him and Frodo some semblance of privacy, Sam found the camp already awake and bustling. There was the sound and scent of breakfast cooking, people chattering, and the occasional shout or burst of laughter. The camp was merry. They were less a legion of soldiers and more a gathering of celebrants. Not in guard or in discipline - Southrons and Easterlings still fought against the host, and even at the camp the lingering struggle showed in the weary and the wounded, taking their rest and being tended to. But the morale was high and the camp buzzed with joy.

Breakfast came and passed swiftly, and someone had evidently informed the cooks of the eating habits of the average hobbit, for Sam found that there was second breakfast, and elevensies, and lunch, and tea, and supper and dinner and a midnight snack. There weren’t quite as many meals as he’d had even as a hobbit of humble means living in Bagshot Row, but the food was much finer fare than any he’d had since leaving Rivendell.

Frodo had woken before Sam, that much was true, but it seemed that he had perhaps a ways further to recover than Sam did. He had a weak appetite at first, but that soon returned. His face had an unnatural pallor, recalling the worst of how he had been after being pierced with the Morgul blade. He slept and woke without issue, and was generally hopeful and cheerful, but tossed and turned with uneasy dreams at night. But the dreams were forgotten in the warm and bright mornings, and Frodo began to regain some colour and solidity, and soon enough it wasn’t enough to sit around eating and drinking and catching up with old friends. Frodo and Sam had gotten used to walking and wandering, and were determined that they should go and explore lush green Ithilien, and perhaps revisit some of the places that they had passed by before.

Frodo was intent upon making the trip, and so was Sam. Frodo was perhaps motivated by a desire to wander about again after his confinement, but Sam was secretly hoping that by venturing back to Henneth Annûn, he would see or hear some sight of that lost and elusive Oliphaunt whose uncertain fate thrilled him so.

The journey did not take long. Henneth Annûn was close enough to the camp of the Great Host that Sam delighted in identifying the swift, clear stream that supplied water from the camp as flowing out directly from Henneth Annûn’s falls. Frodo and Sam made the journey alone, cheerfully following directions from a Ranger who had been stationed there. They found it easily enough. The directions were clear and easy enough to follow, now that Frodo and Sam were honoured and trusted heroes instead of captives found wandering the wilds, and none hesitated to give them the location of the hidden stronghold. It was a short enough trip, and it was with some surprise that Frodo and Sam found that the outpost was close enough to the camp that they could faintly count the tents from the foot of the falls.

It was not yet noon when the pair of them made their way up the hidden paths and passages and found themselves once again confronted with the Window on the West. The waterfall ran as swift and clear as ever, and through the waterfall, the world had been distorted into a hazy impression of colours and shapes. The world was hazy, but even through the sheen of water the vibrancy of it all was unmistakable.

There had been the briefest layer of volcanic ash covering everything from the plains of Gorgoroth all the way to Osgiliath, but that had not lingered long. The green growths of Ithilien had been washed clean before the great hosts of the West had even the chance to make camp, and all that remained of the final impotent destruction of Sauron was the unusually dark soil, rich and fertile ash seeping in and feeding new growth.

Frodo and Sam poked around the hidden outpost a little, exclaiming over this and that familiar thing. The few rangers usually posted here were down at the camp, and other sentries had been posted elsewhere, now that the Enemy had been vanquished. It felt a little lonely to see it without all the men that had been here, without noble and lovely Faramir to speak to them. But it was thrilling too, in a childish way. Not much compared to their past adventures, perhaps, but much safer. They kept to the public areas, and did not find too much of interest. However, they did share a conspiratorial grin as they were helping themselves to the wine stocked there, to supplement the lunch they had packed. Then they took their pilfered foods and their packed lunches, and sat down in front of the Window to eat.

Sam had packed a hearty meat pie and some sandwiches, and a light salad of fresh fruits and berries. They sipped on cool, fragrant wine from the outpost’s stock as they began to demolish their lunch. Frodo didn’t always have a very Hobbitish appetite these days, but today was a good day, and he was in fine form as he made short work of the food. Afterwards, the pair of them sat by the Window and nursed their drinks. The view from the Window was truly unparalleled, and neither of them were sure how many chances they would have of seeing it again.

After a companionable and cheerful lunch, the silence they sank into seemed more contemplative than oppressive.

“It was all I wanted, you know,” Frodo said thoughtfully. “Going off on a grand adventure like Bilbo, seeing the great wide world. But I see now that adventure has not always been what it’s been made out to be.”

“Well, if you’ll pardon me saying so, Mr Frodo,” said Sam, a look of immense intensity upon his face, “adventure might not all be what it’s been made out to be, but it wasn’t for nothin’. We saw the Elves, and I’ll never forget Lorien and the great golden trees. And…” He looked out at the great green stretch of Ithilien out from the Window. “It’s more than what we expected too. Why, never in my whole life did I even dream of seein’ an Oliphaunt!”

Frodo smiled at that. “Indeed,” said he. “I had always fancied myself being so very much worldlier than all the rest of the Hobbits of the Shire, growing up knowing that dragons and wizards and magic rings weren’t just nursery tales. But Oliphaunts! I hadn’t expected _those_ to be real.”

“Not that nobody at home is likely to believe any tale we told,” Sam said, sounding put out.

“Well,” Said Frodo. “At least they’ll hear the tales. True or not, it might bring delight to a little lad or lass someday. And…..and maybe then, I’ll remember it as a story too. A tale. A ballad.”

“The Tale of Frodo Nine-fingered and the Ring of Doom,” Sam said. It had been all he had wanted, lying there with Frodo amidst the burning hell of the collapsing Orodruin. It had been all he had wanted, there upon the field of Cormallen, hearing the bard sing. It did not seem entirely enough now, compared to Frodo’s pale face and translucent gaze.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Frodo said, his weary face transformed by a soft smile. “It won’t just be the tale of the Ring -- it _can’t_ just be the tale of the Ring. The story will be grand! Mysterious forests and grand battles and lost, lovely places no hobbit has ever seen! Dear Aragorn winning his throne at long last and Pippin and Merry becoming knights of exotic kingdoms of Men. That’s the tale too. In the end, our -- our _journey,_ in those lands of shadow, is just a- a thread gathering all these happily-ever-afters together.”

“Well,” Sam said pragmatically, “seein’ as how we were rescued at the last moment by Eagles and all, I daresay we’re in our own happily ever after too.” But he was troubled by Frodo’s half-hearted smile of agreement. The Enemy hadn’t ever managed to take Ithilien, and he was destroyed besides, but Sam felt a chill of foreboding creeping up his spine.

The sun-warmed air held not a trace of sulphurous ash, and no shade darkened the sun. The birds chirped and the flowers bloomed, but Sam felt as though through Frodo he witnessed an inevitable loss, caused not by Sauron but by that greater Enemy of time and fading, the slow defeat. Sam raised a hand to his throat and felt for where the Ring had once touched him. It had not left a physical mark, and it had only been for a little while, compared to Frodo’s lengthy burden, but… he _felt_ branded now. He hadn’t noticed it before, caught up as he was in first their arduous journey and then the adulation of their miraculous return. He had been branded by it somehow, though it had not left a mark like Frodo’s missing finger. Sam did not feel _thin_ , like how Frodo was thinly stretched because of the Morgul blade that had pierced him. He simply felt a lingering echo, a soft remembrance in the hollow of his throat; a kind of phantom touch lingering upon his skin after the solid weight of the object itself had been removed.

Frodo looked at Sam’s expression and his brows drew together with concern. “Maybe it will not be perfect bliss,” Frodo said, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “but I know that we shall both be very happy, whatever else might happen. Whatever else we carried back from that mountain.” Frodo seemed almost surprised at what was coming out of his own mouth, but his expression morphed into one of certainty. “It will be alright,” Frodo said, to himself as much to Sam.

Sam took a deep breath and sighed. The sun was warm. Ithilien was in bloom. The birds were chirping and the day was golden.

“I daresay it will,” said Sam, a smile stretching his face. “But in the meanwhile, let’s head back. We can be at the camp just in time for a late afternoon tea.”

But as the pair of them put the remnants of their lunch back into their packs, Sam suddenly paused. His head whipped up, and he stood, staring out through the blurry curtain of the waterfall into the wilderness below.

“Mister Frodo!” he exclaimed. “Did you hear that?”

Frodo maintained that he had heard nothing, but Sam was abuzz all the way back with the thought that, just for a brief second, he had heard the trumpet call of an Oliphaunt, a lonely snippet of its mighty song carrying as a whisper upon the wind.

Of course they would venture out to explore Ithilien again, on many trips, sometimes alone, sometimes with each other, and sometimes accompanied by the others of the Fellowship, or even by those of the great Host whom they had gotten to know since their awakening. The land was beautiful, and they enjoyed the wandering, of course, but neither Sam nor Frodo mentioned Sam’s secret and almost unreasonable hope. It was a joy, to venture through the land and go to the places that they had once been, but this time in openness unrestricted by fear of enemies -- or of the Enemy. But not once did they find any sign of Sam’s elusive Oliphaunt.

When Sam finally confessed the truth to Merry and Pippin, they were amused, but determined to be helpful.

“Well,” said Pippin thoughtfully, “they’re rather big animals, aren’t they.”

“Rather big?” Merry raised both eyebrows.

“Oh, hush you,” Pippin said. He paused to shovel in a mouthful of stew. “Anyhow, they’re hardly subtle animals. I almost got stepped on by one during the battle on the Pelennor, and trying to dodge that was just like trying to dodge-- a collapsing building, or a falling log.”

Sam gasped. “They were out in the battles?” His eyes were wide, and he almost dropped his fork.

“Oh yes,” Merry said, “great numbers of them, the Harad-men used them to pull their siege engines, I think, and during the battles they had these big tiered towers upon their backs, from which archers could shoot, and they drove the beasts to trample a great many of the men.”

“Gr-great numbers!” Sam exclaimed, dropping his fork for real. “How many were there?”

“Who knows?” said Merry, spooning in a mouthful of his lunch. “Well, I guess our lord Aragorn would know, or maybe one of the other Captains of the Men. But there were enough of them that the earth trembled and shook.”

“It was a whole menagerie out there,” Pippin added cheerfully.

"And - are there… were there any of them left, after the big battles?” Sam asked, trying not to hope.

Merry shook his head. “They were all slain,” he said.

Sam didn’t know how to reply to that. He took a few nibbles of his own lunch, then sighed sadly.”Well, one can’t be everywhere at once, I suppose,” he said. “But I missed a lot, seemingly.”

“But not all, friend Samwise,” said a voice from behind the three, and Sam whirled around to find Faramir, smiling and carrying a great deal of books and scrolls in a bulging satchel, lightly sprinkled in a layer of road dirt after having ridden in from Minas Tirith. Beside his was Frodo, looking immensely pleased.

“Captain Faramir!” Sam gasped, and stood. “Why - I can hardly believe it!”

Pippin and Merry also stood up after a beat. Merry bowed to him, but Pippin saluted him in the manner of a Citadel guard to the Steward.

“It seems our ranger friend has quite risen up from a Captain since we saw him last,” Frodo corrected with solemn amusement.

“It seems all of our ranger friends have quite rise up from a Captain since we were gone,” Sam replied, thinking of his shock at seeing Aragorn upon the throne, that first day after waking.

“Well,” Faramir said, did something complicated with his face, then smiled. He didn’t seem inclined to discuss his sudden ascension to his birth right in the middle of the camp. Instead, he said to Sam, “friend Gamgee, we had our little run in with one of the beasts too, did we not?”

Sam smiled back sadly. “It was wondrous to see that Oliphaunt, it truly was, sir,” said he. “But… it just seems a cryin’ shame that there’s none of them left in these parts.”

“Perhaps none survived the siege of Gondor,” said Faramir, “but I am hopeful that the beast we encountered here in Ithilien still lives. No enemies should have wandered cross its path, and no animal native to Ithilien would know to prey upon it.”

“Oh, I had thought so too, sir,” Sam said gloomily. “It’s only that I’ve looked and looked, and never found so much as a single footprint. I thought I’d heard it, the first time Mr Frodo and I went out explorin’, but I’m beginning to think that was just me imaginin’ things.”

Faramir gained a thoughtful look. “Well,” he said, as if in decision. “Perhaps what you have lacked until now is a guide. The rangers of Ithilien are all posted a little ways from the camp, so no one here, not even your dear friend Strider, knows these lands quite as well as I, especially here so close to the outpost. I came to deliver some reports to Lord Aragorn, and to arrange the fleet that shall carry the host camped here back to the City, but surely I shall have time afterwards to go out and search with you for a little while.”

And he was as good as his word. Merry and Pippin were excited to see Faramir, but they were more excited to see that the lady Eowyn had ridden out with him, and abandoned Frodo and Sam without hesitation as they went to greet her. Frodo and Sam accompanied Faramir as he went to Aragorn and delivered the papers, and then waited patiently as they went to one side so that Faramir could make his own reports to Aragorn somewhere private.

When the business had all been taken care of and after Frodo and Sam had finished a little after lunch snack of wild berries and light ale, Faramir emerged from Aragorn’s tent, looking like a man who had freed himself of numerous woes by foisting them upon someone more rightly responsible for them.

“I still have to oversee the budgets and accounts, and I and terrible with numbers” Faramir said cheerfully in lieu of a greeting, “but I’m glad most of the complaints are all addressed to someone else now. Let’s set off if you are ready, my friends.”

Faramir had taken off his travelling cloak to reveal practical clothes to match his sturdy boots. It seemed that he had planned for an outdoors excursion anyway. Lady Eowyn had been dressed likewise, now that Sam thought about it, but she had been caught up with Merry and Pippin and her brother Eomer.

“Shall I soon expect a wedding?” Frodo asked slyly. He had heard all about lady Eowyn from Merry, and it seemed like the course of her affections had changed from when Merry had ridden with her into glorious and hopeless battle.

Faramir started, and blushed. “It is customary in Gondor to maintain a betrothal for a year’s period before a couple are wed,” he said. “It’s an elvish tradition our Numenorean ancestors adopted from the Elves.”

“Then I wish you joy,” Frodo said, and Sam hastened to also stammer out his congratulations.

The three of them wandered out to the edges of camp, and stood looking at the lay of the land.

“Sam says he heard it last at the Window, so that is where I think we shall go first,” Faramir said, taking a deep breath and smiling. The grave expression of the Steward lifted, and though he was as tall and wise as he ever was, his ancient high stature two of a kind with Aragorn in their recollection of Numenor before the fall, Faramir now looked light and free, like a ranger rather than a prince or a lord.

The three of them went to the Henneth Annûn by hidden paths and unexpected shortcuts, through glades undisturbed by passing armies or stomping Oliphaunts. They made a twisting and winding path through the secret nooks and crannies of the land, and Faramir took special pains to point out this stream that flowed somewhere significant and that little patch of wild berries, and, at last, the fallen trunk of a broad tree that had been the result of the rampaging Oliphaunt, that day so long and not so long ago.

Faramir knelt down to study the tracks. “It’s been through here since,” he said, looking at the tracks on the ground. Sam and Frodo peered down. The huge footprints were easy enough to identify, huge round craters with dents where its toes were.

Sam stared at the ground, excited beyond words. He touched his fingertips to the centre of a massive footprint. His hand was so tiny in comparison. The footprint was bigger than hobbit-cradles. It was probably bigger than the cradles of Mannish babies too. The beast that had left these marks had been gigantic and destructive, but it had also been beautiful and exciting beyond belief.

“Wow,” breathed Sam, grinning like a madman. “It’s still alive! I knew it, Mr Frodo! I knew it!”

Frodo and Faramir were both infected by his enthusiasm, and smiled in return.

Faramir, however, also had some bad news. “These marks are recent, yes, possibly less than a day old. But I’m afraid that the Oliphaunt is a wily beast. Look here, it is walking towards the stream, and see these overturned pebbles. It made its way down in the water, I’d think. The stream is swift here, and most of the tracks have been erased.” But saying that, he bent his head closer to the ground, and began following what few tracks he could anyways.

Frodo and Sam followed as Faramir tracked the Oliphaunt as best as he could, but soon the stream met a greater river, one of the minor tributaries of Anduin the Great, and the could only give it up as a lost job. An Oliphaunt might ford it or even walk up and down its deepest parts to hide its tracks, but it was dangerous for a Man tall as Faramir to cross, to say nothing of two Hobbits of unexceptional physical stature.

“I am sorry, Samwise,” Faramir said gravely. “It seems that I have overestimated my craft.”

“That’s okay sir,” Sam said, hanging his head in disappointment. “It was just a wild fancy anyhow. At least- at least I know it’s alive and everything.”

Faramir patted Sam consolingly on the shoulder.

“It’s getting late,” Sam said gloomily, looking up at the sky. “I suppose we ought to go back to camp, or we’ll miss dinner.”

Faramir looked at the lay of the land, and smiled. “If you are hungry, master Samwise,” said Faramir, “it might be more prudent to return to the Henneth Annûn outpost. We’ll certainly miss dinner at camp, even if we start back now.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped even lower. He had been looking forward to some hot and hearty food after this long day of trekking.

“Oh come now, dearest Sam,” Frodo said cheerfully, “I’m sure there’s food enough to make a fine dinner at the outpost, and we’ve brought enough food besides.”

“Now that the Enemy is no more, the outpost at Henneth Annûn need not be kept in such great secrecy,” Faramir said consolingly. “It shall therefore be no matter to light a fire and I think we can make something much homelier for dinner than the hard bread and cold cheeses that you last had there.

The prospect of something warm at least buoyed Sam’s spirits up a little, and on the way to the outpost he and Frodo put their sharp eyes and quick fingers to use pinching off wild herbs and finding additions to their evening meal. The hot afternoon sun began to dip down as they walked, and the shadows lengthened as the air cooled.

“This way,” Faramir said, and took them up yet another hidden path, until suddenly they found themselves somewhere familiar. Faramir lead the two hobbits into the mouth of what seemed to be a shallow cave in the cliffside, but which devolved briefly into a dark and winding tunnel. When they emerged, Frodo and Sam gasped. The tunnel had been yet another secret entryway into the outpost, and they had emerged just in time to witness the sun setting fire to the skies as it lowered itself down towards the distant horizon. They had seen this once before, of course, on that fateful day when they had first met Faramir and his rangers, but the view from the Window of Sunset was just as beautiful now. The sky was a little more orange and a little less red, fewer hints of the shadowy doom that laid hidden just beyond Ithilien’s fair borders, and it seemed as if the Sun Herself was crying out with joy at having the dark clouds of the Enemy dissipated at long last. Faramir Frodo and Sam stood side by side in silence as they watched the smouldering light of the setting Sun dance and sparkle across the sheen of water and set fire to the far heavens. The inside of the cavern was lit bright by the diffused light, the rippling shadows of the waterfall blending together with the burning dusk, reflections of fire and water dancing across the faces of the three onlookers, making them seem to be underwater yet set alight with fire at the same time.

When the Sun finally disappeared below the horizon, Sam sighed, but happily. “It’s just as great a second time, sir, and no mistake,” said he, feeling much more cheerful about the whole day.

“It is one of the greatest rewards in being a Ranger of Ithilien,” said Faramir, smiling. “I don’t think I shall ever be accustomed to the sight.”

“It makes me feel better, just knowing that this sight is goin’ t’be here long after we depart,” Sam said thoughtfully. “It’s good to be reminded that some things last a lot longer than People do. Well, mortal ‘uns anyway. Even fading as they are, I’m sure the Elves will still be here to look upon this sight long after we’re all gone.”

“I don’t know about the Elves,” said Frodo, “but I think you’re right, Sam. I’m glad to be reminded that this place of beauty can outlast you and I.”

“Perhaps it will outlast us all,” said Faramir, “but I don’t doubt that your names will still be remembered in story and song in years to come, and perhaps when Ithilien has no longer any need for guardhouses and outposts, travellers shall stand here, where you once stood, and think of you even as they look upon the Sun setting through the Window. Memory is how we all shall live on, we the Secondborn. Perhaps story and song is not enough to sustain us forever, but even the Eldar must fade, in Arda Marred.”

“It’s enough,” Sam said. “It’s enough that I saw the Oliphaunt. It’s enough to know that it lives, that it will live, here in Ithilien so far from home. No one will believe me when I tell ‘em about it when I get back to the Shire, mayhap, but it’s enough that I got to see it and believe it, and it’s enough that someone’s gonna hear about it. It isn’t always a story with a happy ending for all, but there’s always beautiful things along the way. Beautiful an’ impossible things.”

Faramir smiled, and Frodo touched Sam’s shoulder as he looked out at the bare and rocky cavern around them and the curtain of icy water cascading down in front of them. It wasn’t anything much, really, just a cave and a waterfall, but at the right place and at the right moment, it was the most beautiful place on Earth.

They would eat a fine dinner, and return late to camp, and Faramir would be chagrined to be late in meeting his future brother-in-law, but the trip had been worth making, and Sam and Frodo both returned smiling. The great host encamped upon the field of Cormallen would soon depart for Minas Tirith, and the culmination of Aragorn’s joy would soon come at long last. It would all soon be over, the story and the songs, but Sam found that he didn’t much mind this part of the story, the epilogue if that was really indeed what it was. Maybe it was just the beginning of a new chapter. The joyful days would come one after another, and he would never forget, not about the Ring and the adventures and the Fellowship, certainly, but also never the single lost Oliphaunt, lonely and impossible, or its massive footprints, the reminder that it had lingered, somewhere, out of sight but not out of memory. Perhaps it lingered still in Ithilien. It would always linger on in Ithilien to Sam, so long as he never returned and never searched the lands there again. Of course, very few except the most impressionable of hobbit-lads and hobbit-lasses ever believed him when he told them about the Oliphaunt.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic had a few growing pains. Not because it was difficult to get down but because I had too many ideas and was all over the place. Thanks to everyone who was patient with my endless moaning about Temperature and Climate and Wild Berries and then found out that actually none of that was in the final draft. Oops? and Sorry. As they say, the first draft is where you mine the quarry, and the edits are where Michelangelo carves out David. It's not David but I hope it isn't a block of rock either. The emotional impact of it might have suffered for the absence but I myself was very proud of when I excised about two thousand words just Being Sad About Boromir, just because it didn't Fit. perhaps I'm learning and growing as a writer? Perhaps I cut out the wrong stuff? IDK but I can live with the final product.


End file.
